The grand piano sings,
muted notes in mine heart.
No melody but you brings,
Serenity to this hype.

 None but pure emotion. .  .
    None but  allure delusions. .  .
    None but hue inspirations. .  .
 None but loveless isolation. .  .

Defines my thoughts in every way.
Shapes my soul to such dismay.

All of you.
All for you.
Long overdue.

                                                     ­                                 *Baby, I'm missing you.

I am not jealous
of what came before me.

Come with a man
on your shoulders,
come with a hundred men in your hair,
come with a thousand men between your ******* and your feet,
come like a river
full of drowned men
which flows down to the wild sea,
to the eternal surf, to Time!

Bring them all
to where I am waiting for you;
we shall always be alone,
we shall always be you and I
alone on earth
to start our life!

His* thoughts concerned none other,
but of her – her irrational anger.
directed at him for no real matter,
for committing an honest mistake; like it was ******.

She called,
but didn't listen.
She hung up,
without even asking
what really happened.

                       Now he's crying.
                       His being is,
                       no tears are flowing
                       from his eyes
                       for they were barren
                       An empty vessel,
                       he needed loving.
                       But what he got?
                          A message saying. . .
                                                            ­                     *   ~
                                   ­                             *Goodnight, I'm sleeping.
                                                       ­          let's talk some other time.
                                                           ­      I'm tired from working.
                                                       ­                         **   ~

Relieve the pain.
Scribble words.
An act mundane,
to his universe.

He'd had enough,
and so he said –
                 ~
      Oh my love!
         I have paid.  
     All my love,
        down to the pave.
     For you bore not,
        the love I gave.
    Untie my knot,
        undone this slave.
                 ~
"Set me free!"
   His heart exclaims. . .

"I loved not thee."
   She proclaims.

Then cometh to his wits,
   it was he who enslaved,
himself to pain down the pits;
   when for love he had laid,
His Soul. His Truth. His Bliss.

Then so he wrote one final creed,
the last of his odes; his parting plead.
                      
                                                           Drag­ me deep down!
                                                           To the depths of fiery Tartarus!
                                                            for love is an act so murderous,
                                                            that everyday it smites mine heart.

                         I've given up this life I own,
                        sold to ink for one purpose.
                        Write poems, songs, odes; all in chorus.
                        Cram all ardor into immortal art.

 That if one day I be finally known,
 for the fool I was; in love I lose.
 May my path not be used,
 that time I know I've done my part.
                      
"To play the act of the  b r o k e n   f o o l."